Learning to Share
by the lamp shade
Summary: Neither of them is good at sharing, and Natasha has no desire to learn until after the battle.


Decided this was sitting in my math notebook for too long, so enjoy, maybe even leave a review or something.

Disclaimer: Marvel is not mine. Obviously.

Summary: Neither is good at sharing, and Natasha has no desire to learn until after the battle.

..

Howard Stark found him frozen in time. His body wasn't handed over to SHIELD until 30 years after they pulled him out of the ice.

"I've heard of him," Clint says on their way to their briefing about the new "subject," but that fact is mute because the "subject" is the one who started it all. Without the "subject," they'd both be normal. "Not just from Coulson. I was scanning a facility he wrecked when I-" he pauses, shifts uncomfortably as the memory of the burning blue liquid searing his skin resurfaces, "was exposed to the serum."

"Well," she says lightly as she nudges him with her elbow to keep him grounded, "We look pretty good for our ages."

"Yeah," he says. "We do, don't we?"

She grabs his hand so neither has to ask the question burning in their minds. What happens when he wakes up? Will they still be partners? Will they have to learn to share?

"Hell of a world, huh?" she sighs because this is easy, this is safe.

"Don't let go just yet, Nat."

She knows she should, but the hallway is empty, and Clint needs her.

And she might need him too.

She holds on.

..

When the super soldier awakens, they are on separate continents – Fury's punishment for Tasha smiling a little too fondly at one of Clint's jokes during a debriefing.

"What's wrong with a smile, sir?" Clint had defended.

Fury had simply crossed his arms and said, "Her usual smiles look more like snarls, and I'm fine with those."

Her smile had been small, barely there, but apparently enough to alert Fury. "They share too much with each other," she had heard Fury tell Coulson when they thought they were alone. "They keep forgetting the best kept secrets are secrets kept to oneself."

"The two have been genetically altered, Director. They're all each other's got for at least another 50 years," Phil had replied, in that calm way of his that always puts people at ease.

"Still, I think they need to be careful where they put their allegiances."

The words had stung, reminded her of the golden rule. _Never let anyone know you, not completely. If they know you, they will control you_. She made an effort not to give Clint so much of herself.

..

She prescribes herself a regiment of solo missions to clear her head and Fury eagerly agrees before shipping her off to play babysitter for a mad scientist whose eyes follow her a second too long for her liking. It could be worse, she could be Clint.

_You know this thing should be in one of those Harry Potter books you were reading. Harry Potter and the Glowing Blue Cube that People Sit and Fucking Stare at All Day Long!_

She snorts at her phone. _Put some boobs on it and Stark will stare at it for free_.

_Ha. Are we even sure that's Stark's type?_

She's about to reply with a snide comment about his seduction skills from Tibet (a low point in both of their careers as they were playing rival love interests for a female crime boss) when Stark draws her away and asks her a silly question about birthdays and last wishes.

Honestly, she doesn't like thinking about that sort of stuff, especially not while she's on the job, because now she's thinking of Clint and the birthday they spent in a frozen hell hole watching the sunrise and making snow cakes. She honestly doesn't even remember whose birthday it was, just that she certainly wouldn't mind it as a last memory.

She gives him a vague answer about doing whatever she wanted with whomever and hopes it's good enough to allow her to leave.

..

She meets the lab accident while Clint is being used to turn the world upside down, and it's easier than she thought it would be to avoid making the man's blood boil with anger. The man has a calm tension about him, just enough to keep her on guard at all times, but not enough to make her actively avoid him.

He comes willingly after she points a gun at his face, and she can tell from his eyes that he is clearly impressed but by what she isn't sure. He's actually pleasant to exchange words with on the plane ride back to the helicarrier.

That doesn't mean she still not on guard every time she's near him. Spiders and angry rage monsters never made friends in any children's fable that she can recall.

..

She finally meets the super soldier. She greets him with a nod and finds amusement in the confused glances he exchanges with Bruce as they examine the carrier. It's one of the few perks the senior officers enjoy: watching the newcomers guess what the hell they are standing on. With a wry smile, she turns to make a snide comment to – oh, right.

Clint has been replaced with a monster.

She looks back at the Captain remembering the fears they had about the "subject" waking up. Will we still be partners? Will we have to learn to share?

She wishes Clint were still himself so she could share this with him.

..

"You are so young," Bruce says as she leads him to the lab.

If Clint were here, she could exchange knowing glances with him and snicker at Bruce's expense.

_Dammit, Barton._ _When did you become so important?_

Thinking about it saddens her so instead she blinks and remarks, "Not as young as I look," without filtering her bitterness.

..

"He made a different call."

The words sound so painless, so empty compared to the red stained walls and the blood soaked dirt that was their first encounter. They had thrown each other around till neither could stand, stripped each other so bare neither could keep going, pushed so hard neither could bear the thought of stopping. They had ruined one another, destroyed themselves.

In the end, neither had known how to continue as they picked themselves up from the ground that one last time. "I could use someone like you," he had said.

She had been too exhausted and impressed to argue, too curious not to follow.

"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"

Love, she wants to scoff. "Love is for children; I owe him a debt."

But she has the feeling she doesn't have to tell the creature before her that she paid her debt off years ago.

..

His hug is more like an avalanche collapsing on top of her, hitting her hard, making her newly acquired injuries throb with pain and her feet stumble, but she pushes against him until they are supporting each other equally. And really once in that position, their arms tight around each other, fingers hanging on desperately so their balance doesn't falter, neither wants to move. "Nat, I'm too old for this," he says in the presence of gods, aliens, super soldiers, metal men, and monsters.

She laughs for the first time in months.

Laughs despite the looks from Stark, laughs despite the blood dripping from her forehead and his arms, laughs despite the fact it's not even over yet. She can't see any of it anyway, with her face buried in his chest and her eyes closed.

"I missed you," she whispers and he pulls away to give her the stupidest grin she's ever seen.

"Really?"

He looks so overjoyed and hopeful, so young, so familiar and yet so new because he's back. He's not a ghost of who he used to be or an evil creature's favorite weapon. She smiles back at him and she knows it must look out of place because her face actually starts to hurt from smiling so big and- god, she might just love this man. "No," she replies and he laughs.

"I love you too," he says before hugging her close again and she pretends not to notice the curious glances from Stark when she doesn't break Clint's face like he expected.

She can't be bothered with that now because they're alive. He's back. And she'd rather share him than have nothing at all.

..

The elevator ride up to their floor because her apartment that they usually use has a giant whale monster lying on top of it consists of Stark, Clint, and her. "We're going to have to learn how to share, aren't we?" Clint groans. They're going to have to share one another, learn how to adapt to being partners with new people.

"Personally," Stark butts in, "I am not an advocate of sharing. Especially not after saving the world. This is why I created guest floors. My space is mine, theirs is theirs. It's a great system."

"We're just not used to sharing. We tend to keep to ourselves," Clint explains and Natasha wants to ram his head into the metal elevator door because Stark gets that look in his eye that says he clearly misinterpreted their relationship.

"Oh, I gotcha. You've got a little Blyde thing going on the side," he says with some very crude hand gestures thrown in that make Clint take a step away from him. "Hey, I get it. Makes a lot of sense actually the way she was worrying over-"

"What is Blyde?" she asks before he finishes.

"Bonnie and Clyde. In love and causing crime. I guess you guys are in love and fighting it, but whatever, you two fit the mold of criminals." He pauses for a moment before, "I get it. You spend so much time with each other and what not- it's practically inevitable. Especially, with the way you two look; you definitely bring the pretty. Well, Barton actually brings more of a manly-"

"We aren't dating, Stark," Clint interrupts and Natasha sighs with relief.

"Don't believe you." She wants to cut out his tongue. "No, scratch it, I do believe you, but really if you're afraid of sharing yourselves with new people, its best by first sharing yourself entirely with one person. That's what my mom always said. Of course, she was talking more about my robots and-"

"Lovely, Stark," she cuts him off right when the elevator dings at their floor.

..

When she enters her room for the next few months, Clint is by her side. "Yours is bigger than mine," he says as he trots around the room poking different buttons.

"Yeah, well, Stark is crazy and owes me."

"He was right you know," Clint says as he fiddles with the fabric of the drapes. "About learning how to share ourselves with others. I might be nice to- I mean, I trust you with my life and- what I'm trying to…" he sighs before chuckling at himself in a way that makes her take a few steps closer and tilt her head to the side in curiosity. "I meant what I said earlier, Tasha. I love you. No joke."

"I know," she says because she does. She has known for at least three years that her partner, Clint Barton, was stupidly in love with her. They both valued their friendship too much for either to acknowledge it, and she thinks that he probably has been hoping as much as she has the past few years that the feelings would just disappear.

"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know if you want someone to share yourself with completely, I'm here, and if you'll let me, there's no other person in the world I trust as much as you and-"

"Barton," she whispers because he's rambling and he never rambles. "I think that-" No, oh god, she wasn't trained for this shit. "You asked me what Loki did to me to make me so hell bent on bringing him down. He stole you, Clint. That's it. The worrying, the risks, the searching, the war- I did it for you."

"Tasha?" There's a question in his eyes that she wants to answer yes to because he needs it to be. Yes, she did it for him. Yes, she loves him. Yes, she wants to give this relationship thing an honest try.

Yes. She can tell by his eyes he needs it.

And she needs it too. "I'm no good at sharing, Clint. Not completely."

He smiles lazily as he takes as step closer to her. "We can teach each other," he says before capturing her lips with his own.

She hums softly before sucking his tongue into her mouth and backing him towards the bed. In the next hour they teach each other about sharing kisses, skin, and sheets, and it's not perfect – she discovers she has to pee shortly after it begins, he breaks two of his toes when he accidently kicks the headboard, and he makes a terrible bow and arrow joke right before he enters her. It's messy, insistent, rough, and strangely silly at the end when she laughs at him because he thought he could make that stupid joke and sleep in her bed.

It's far from perfect, but for some reason, both later remember it as just that.

..

She can't sleep after the second round, far smoother than the first, so she curls into him and stares up at him in confusion because she's never allowed someone so close before. He snores gently and she tries not to think about what it would be like if she had failed, if she had lost him forever, condemned to thinking of bits that would make him laugh only to turn towards an empty spot and hearing the ghost of his laughter in her ears. "I love you," she whispers.

He smiles and tugs her closer. "I know."

"Asshole," she snaps. "You're not supposed to be awake."

His laughter lulls her to sleep.


End file.
